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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27873425">holy, holy, holy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/architecture_in_f1ll0ry/pseuds/architecture_in_f1ll0ry'>architecture_in_f1ll0ry</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Blood of Zeus (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, First Time, Hand Jobs, I'm sorry and I'm not, M/M, No Plot, PWP, Smut, Tenderness, for real, it is what it is</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:17:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,981</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27873425</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/architecture_in_f1ll0ry/pseuds/architecture_in_f1ll0ry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Apollo weakens something in Seraphim that he can't bring himself to fortify again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Apollo/Seraphim (Blood of Zeus)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have no excuse for this, like absolutely none. I wanted to know more about seraphim and I also needed him to be taken care of, if you know what I mean, and who better to do that than our beautiful sunny boy? </p><p>the format is vaguely experimental, shifting between their first time and their...not first. just take it for what it is. I wanted to get them laid and loved.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Apollo likes to take his time.</p><p> </p><p>It’s jarring, uncomfortable, almost, until Seraphim reminds himself to surrender to it, reminds himself that Apollo rarely allows it any other way. He loves to gently scold Seraphim about the importance of <em> slowing down </em>, abating the fire that constantly rages beneath the demon’s skin, ensuring his obedience with those coy glances and clever touches: capturing Seraphim’s wrist and rubbing a reverent thumb along his beating pulse, drawing one fingertip slowly down the curve of his jaw, walking him carefully backward until he bumps into the wall, too mesmerized by Apollo’s cocksure grin to muster a protest at his vulnerable position.</p><p> </p><p>Everything about the god is enchanting—of course, he’s a <em> god </em>—but Seraphim has learned through experience that trying to resist Apollo’s charms is utterly futile.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“What do you want with me?” Seraphim demands roughly as the bident slams into his outstretched palm. He watches Apollo give it a bored glance, and then growls a curse as Apollo waves a lazy hand to send it spinning off into the darkness of the cave. </p><p> </p><p>“Come now, that’s no way to treat a new friend.”</p><p> </p><p>“Friend? I do not make friends with gods.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm,” Apollo hums, looking around the dark walls with interest as he steps further inside, his entire body emanating a warm, yellow-white light. It’s harder to look away from than Seraphim would like to admit. “Do you have many friends, then?”</p><p> </p><p>Seraphim glowers as Apollo tosses him a wink, playful and insouciant. His teeth are so white. “Tell me what you want.” </p><p> </p><p>Apollo likes to touch: he drags his fingertips across every surface, casting his careful regard on each pitiable object Seraphim has accrued throughout his cursed life. It’s humbling, infuriatingly so, and Seraphim grits his teeth, weighing the pros and cons of rushing at Apollo to knock him off his feet, land a few strong blows before being dealt the inevitable blast of fire or whatever Apollo chooses to fight with. Finally, he speaks. “I want a great many things,” he says casually, turning to survey Seraphim where he’s still half-crouched, ready to spring. He sighs, as if Seraphim were a misbehaving pet. “Oh, stop. Do you want to <em> kill </em> me, Seraphim? Behead me, perhaps?” The idea seems to amuse him.</p><p> </p><p>“I want you to leave me alone.”</p><p> </p><p>Apollo frowns, but it’s more sympathetic than displeased. The expression is so unfamiliar that for a moment, Seraphim loses his bearings completely. “Yes...my mother and father are awful meddlers. I am sorry you have suffered because of their tiresome plotting.” He shifts his eyes sarcastically heavenward, then pitches his voice lower, as if trying not to be overheard. “Don’t worry, we are not all cut from the same cloth.”</p><p> </p><p>Seraphim grunts, straightening slowly, his gaze suspicious. Despite his better instincts, he feels less...on edge around Apollo than he does around the other gods who have made him their unwilling plaything. Still: “Why should I believe that?”</p><p> </p><p>Apollo tilts his head thoughtfully, and the slow way he rakes his eyes over Seraphim’s form stirs something heavy and undeniable in the pit of the demon’s stomach. “Yes, I suppose…” Apollo murmurs, moving closer, with none of the fear or disgust or haughty disdain that Seraphim is so accustomed to. He’s close enough to touch, now, and Seraphim again thinks idly of attacking, but the impulse is distant, muted. “I suppose I haven’t given you much reason to trust me.”</p><p> </p><p>Seraphim’s hand shoots out, grabbing Apollo’s wrist before his fingers can make contact with his...hair? He stares at Apollo, puzzled, but somewhat satisfied with the surprise spelled across the god’s glowing, artfully chiseled face. “What are you doing.” He means to speak loudly, to attempt to unsettle, if not frighten, but his voice comes out hushed instead. </p><p> </p><p>Apollo flexes his wrist, once, then steps closer at the same time that he frees his hand, only to slot his fingers between Seraphim’s, pressing their palms together. It’s a simple touch, innocent enough, but no one has ever touched him like this—not even Ariana; for all her virtues as a mother, was never very physically demonstrative—and he feels the long-repressed need for affection like a sudden ache. There’s a strange noise, somewhere between a pained hiss and a low growl, that he realizes belatedly has come from him.</p><p> </p><p>Apollo looks away from their joined hands to Seraphim’s face, his eyes softening in a way that Seraphim hates, and he wrenches his hand away, cursing this moment of weakness, cursing the unmistakable cold that signals the loss of the sun god’s touch. “I don’t understand.”</p><p> </p><p>“Understand?” Apollo echoes, holding himself still, seemingly with effort. Why should he <em> want </em> to touch Seraphim? Why should such a divine, beautiful creature appear so rejected, so bereft at a demon’s reticence?</p><p> </p><p>“I,” Seraphim begins, forcing himself to meet Apollo’s eyes, trying to discern any shade of trickery or mischief in his amber gaze. “I know what I look like. And you know the things I’ve done.”</p><p> </p><p>Apollo’s mouth falls open for a moment, and then he grins, pressing his fingers to his mouth as if attempting to quell it. “What you’ve <em> done </em> ? Why, you’ve behaved as any headstrong mortal would, considering the awful lot you’ve been dealt.” His voice is low, as if sharing a secret between the two of them, and when he speaks next, his eyes trace the glowing veins of Seraphim’s torso with the weight of a physical caress. “And you look…” When his eyes meet Seraphim’s again, they are positively <em> molten </em>, and Seraphim wonders, with something akin to disbelief, if perhaps there is something wrong with this god. “Perhaps you’ve been looking at yourself incorrectly this entire time, my friend.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s absurd, and humiliating, and likely a horrible mistake, some new devilry being unleashed upon him that he will rue as another of Olympus’ inscrutable machinations, but now—bathed in Apollo’s warm glow, trapped and defenseless beneath his careful regard, Seraphim feels a most foreign compulsion: to yield.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Life hasn’t given Seraphim much, in the way of romance.</p><p> </p><p>It would be a laughable thought, if it weren’t so tragic: a whispered secret among his lessers, he is well aware. He watched his mother succumb to the brute power of stronger men; both of them too weak to stop it before she was ripped so cruelly from him, from this world.</p><p> </p><p>The point is, chastity is a concept as familiar to Seraphim as violence.</p><p> </p><p>But this is decidedly neither, when Apollo draws Seraphim’s presence within a deep, dark wood, his shimmering yellow glow now a trusted beacon. Or when he slips into Seraphim’s pavilion through a looking glass, approaching the bedroll with steps as light as the golden hair that ripples and cascades past his shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>Seraphim forgets violence when Apollo straddles his lap with a pleased smirk, visibly enjoying the way Seraphim cannot subdue his wide-eyed stare, still the motion of his hands, ceaselessly exploring the firm, smooth curves of the god’s shoulders and back. There’s no aggression here, as he once again allows himself to get lost in the press of a warm body against his, reveling in Apollo’s murmured encouragement, his breathy laughter when Seraphim summons the nerve to scrape gentle teeth along the rise of an angled jaw. </p><p> </p><p>And there is absolutely nothing chaste in the way Apollo’s cheeks redden, mouth falling open in ecstasy as Seraphim curls an eager hand around his swelling cock, pumping it slowly, each pass growing easier, slicker, with the god’s excitement. Nothing chaste in Seraphim’s bitten off moans as Apollo flicks the tip of his eager tongue across a nipple, gently back and forth, one hand lowering to pet slowly at Seraphim’s groin, deftly avoiding touching where Seraphim needs it the most, reducing him to quiet begging, his entire body aflame. </p><p> </p><p>Chaste, no, but there’s a beautiful purity in it, nonetheless, when Apollo braces himself over Seraphim and sinks down, down, with a drawn-out moan, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, those piercing golden eyes fixed on Seraphim’s face. He’s never more aware of Apollo’s divinity than this, when he’s clenched so tight and hot around him, his waist slim and tapered in Seraphim’s hold, every withdrawal the sweetest agony until he swallows him back in, at a pace so exacting he thinks he will surely die from the pleasure of it. </p><p> </p><p>“Slow now, Seraphim, slow,” Apollo chides with a gentle laugh, sliding a hand up his chest, watching its progress as he cradles Seraphim’s jaw, brushes a thumb across his cheek. Seraphim groans, holding his hips still as Apollo continues his unhurried, rocking undulations, and closes his eyes, turning his head to pull that thumb into his mouth and bite and <em> suck </em>, needing something, needing more, needing everything he was receiving and giving and feeling, feeling, almost too much, the ceaseless, unrelenting waves of it. He hears Apollo’s breaths grow more harsh, growls low in his chest when the thumb in his mouth withdraws, dragging its trail of moisture down his chin, compelling his eyes to snap open.</p><p> </p><p>“I would taste you,” he demands, or pleads, and a sticky warmth fills his chest when Apollo smiles, lowering himself until his hair spills around their faces, a silken curtain. Seraphim’s arm grasps around his back, holding him close, thrusting once, hard, to watch him shudder.</p><p> </p><p>“Where?” Apollo breathes, tightening a fist in the sheets, working himself over Seraphim’s cock with renewed vigor, the blood high in his cheeks. “Tell me.”</p><p> </p><p>Seraphim’s hold tightens, and he threads a needy hand into Apollo’s hair and <em> pulls</em>, growing impossibly harder inside at the way Apollo gasps and clenches. “Your mouth.”</p><p> </p><p>Apollo obliges. He always does.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>And he makes it so <em> easy </em> to yield.</p><p> </p><p>This time, the second time, when he reaches out, he does not touch, merely waits, fingers outstretched as he watches Seraphim closely. Patiently. Seraphim hates to hesitate, hates to appear unsure, but in this, he is something like a child again, cowed in the face of this new challenge. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s alright,” Apollo murmurs, soothing. “I won’t hurt you.”</p><p> </p><p>Seraphim’s eyes flick between the waiting hand and Apollo’s open, kind expression, his heart racing almost painfully in his chest. He wonders if Apollo can hear it, whether it’s an audible awareness or a physical one, like the thundering of a hundred crow’s wings as they take flight, the restless trembling of loose stones before a stampede descends into an empty gorge. And then he meets the touch halfway, nearly recoiling at the discordant image: Apollo’s smooth, perfect hand meeting his clawed deformity, pure beauty marred by chaos.</p><p> </p><p>Apollo makes a soft hushing sound, grasping his fingers again tightly, as if afraid he might pull away again. “How does it feel?” he asks, curious, and uses Seraphim’s obvious search for a response as an opening to brush his other hand up the demon’s chest, spreading over his heart.</p><p> </p><p>“Warm,” Seraphim answers without meaning to, and feels stupidly grateful that no blush can be made visible in his skin, though the relief is short-lived when he realizes Apollo is feeling, beneath his palm, just how affected he is. The knowledge both embarrasses and frees him; there is no more illusion here, no hiding his attraction, his swift and sudden longing.</p><p> </p><p>“Mm.” Apollo seems pleased by his answer, his lips curving upwards, and now that Seraphim is looking at them, he finds he can think of little else. “And now it is my turn to ask you,” he continues, and Seraphim drags his eyes away with difficulty, licking his lips. Apollo notices. “What do <em> you </em> want?”</p><p> </p><p>The question is a cruel one—<em>you</em>—and an impossible one—<em>everything</em>—and Seraphim inwardly flounders, bringing their joined hands to his mouth and shutting his eyes, desperate to regain his bearings. He’s never felt like this before, it’s nearly too much. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, my sweet,” Apollo sighs softly, and the whispered endearment rushes through Seraphim like a wildfire, shorting out his senses. He offers no resistance when Apollo pulls him close, framing his face with his palms, brushing their noses together. “Will you let me kiss you?” His breath, his mouth, the warmth, the honeyed immediacy of their mingled desire: it’s torturous. “Seraphim?”</p><p> </p><p>Seraphim nods, and watches with slow fascination as Apollo now shuts his eyes, tilting his head as he presses their lips together. His vision blurs and the closeness makes his head spin but he can’t look away, has to witness the way those golden brows tilt upward in gentle supplication as his mouth coaxes Seraphim’s open, and the combined sight and sensation wrench a groan from his chest that makes Apollo give a small, delighted chuckle, pulling away to survey him curiously.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you always watch?” he asks mischievously, brushing his fingers over Seraphim’s cheek, down his neck, fondling his long braid, loosening the thick strands. Seraphim has no response; this is his first time, and he cannot abide saying as much out loud. Apollo, whether he can actually divine mortals’ thoughts or is just observant in the way all of the gods are, understands. </p><p> </p><p>Unwilling to dwell in his shame a second longer, Seraphim draws Apollo back into the kiss, now starving for more. Apollo’s lips are both firm and yielding; he gives and takes in equal measure, a careful dance that instructs and entices, stoking a steady flame in Seraphim’s belly. His tongue is sure and quick, requesting entrance and curling against Seraphim’s with ease, and Seraphim loses all sense of time as they continue to suck and bite and taste, the soft, wet sounds intermingling with the low harmony of their mounting pleasure. </p><p> </p><p>It is Apollo who pulls away and Seraphim who chases him, his first unbidden smile appearing when Apollo grabs his waist, bites chidingly at his upper lip. </p><p> </p><p>“I should have known you’d be insatiable.”</p><p> </p><p>“You started this.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know.” Apollo captures his lips in another kiss, harder now, deeper, and then they’re moving, Seraphim edging backwards until his calves collide with the edge of the bed. There’s no forethought, no hesitation as he draws Apollo down with him, just the needy grasp of hands and bodies slotting together as they continue the desperate, needy kisses, which only pause when Apollo presses his hips deliberately <em> down </em>, pulling a strangled gasp from Seraphim.</p><p> </p><p>“By the g—”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t finish that,” Apollo breathes into Seraphim’s neck with a dark chuckle, pressing a biting kiss there. “It’s just me, here with you.”</p><p> </p><p>Seraphim huffs, trying not to squirm, but feeling entirely too on edge to slow the pace of his roaring desire. “I need—Apollo—”</p><p> </p><p>“Shh, shh.” Apollo moves up to kiss him again, brushing away a few errant strands of white hair, his eyes fond. “I know what you need.” His eyes glow brighter for a brief second and the sudden coolness below alerts him to the fact that Apollo has magicked away their clothes.</p><p> </p><p>“Clever trick,” he manages, as Apollo smirks, and then he loses coherency entirely when he feels a heavy cock drag against his own, making him hiss loudly, gripping Apollo’s hips tightly for balance. “Uhhhn, <em> fuck.” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Apollo moans, thrusting again, grabbing Seraphim’s hands and pressing them down to the bedroll above his head, then sitting back and surveying him stretched out, like a starving man at a feast. “Can I—”</p><p> </p><p>“Anything,” Seraphim interrupts, his mouth positively watering as he takes in Apollo’s nude, sculpted body, the gloriously thick cock that rises hard and leaking from his nest of golden curls. </p><p> </p><p>Apollo smiles, dropping a lingering kiss on his lips, licking them open, moaning into his mouth. “<em>Anything</em>, he says.” Before Seraphim can form a response, Apollo shifts over to drag his tongue against one of the horns protruding from his shoulder, startling a yelp out of him, taken completely by surprise. </p><p> </p><p>Apollo pulls away and raises a questioning eyebrow, rubbing a soothing hand down the center of his chest. “Does it hurt?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no, just—unexpected.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good.” And he does it again, a god intent on ravishing a demon, covering Seraphim with sharp kisses and soft licks, as if determined to let not one inch of his body go untouched by his mouth, his wandering hands. He takes pleasure in Seraphim’s restless movement, if his small laughs and fond shushes are any indication, and cruelly, steadfastly ignores his cock, choosing instead to nip and suck at his inner thighs, spreading them slowly as he continues to take him apart, glancing up every so often from beneath that heavy-lidded gaze. </p><p> </p><p>Staying quiet is a fool’s errand, Seraphim quickly realizes, not while he’s so thoroughly ensnared by Apollo’s allure, a willing victim to his many charms. By the time Apollo scrapes his blunt nails up the meat of Seraphim’s twitching calves, licking at the juncture of his knees, a place Seraphim had never once considered might be sensitive to such touches, his stomach is a mess, his cock leaking and spurting steadily as it strains upward, desperate for a firm touch. </p><p> </p><p>When he speaks, he sounds drugged, too far past desperate to care. “Please, Apollo,” he gasps, planting his feet firmly, canting his hips upward. “Please.”</p><p> </p><p>Apollo crawls upwards slowly, a catlike grin on his flushed face. “Tell me what it is you need, sweet Seraphim, and I will give it to you.”</p><p> </p><p>An abundance of images flash across his mind, too quickly for Seraphim’s scrambled wits to find purchase. He moans, utterly lost, and grabs Apollo’s hand to bring it to his cock, staring up at him beseechingly.</p><p> </p><p>“This?” Apollo questions, cocking his head as he tightens his grip, jacking him slowly, surely. “Not my mouth?”</p><p> </p><p>Fuck. Seconds from exploding, Seraphim nods, maybe too eagerly, but his pride is no longer a factor as Apollo leans down, opening his mouth wide and sucking him down until Seraphim can feel himself bumping against the back of his tight, hot throat. His groan is loud and guttural and he’s powerless against the driving force of his need, shoving himself into that narrow passage until he’s shouting his release, trembling as Apollo holds himself tightly against his groin, swallowing and swallowing. When he finally pulls off, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip with a languid wink, Seraphim can only cover his eyes and pant, feeling like he might combust again at the sight.</p><p> </p><p>“Good?” Apollo asks smugly, firm hands kneading his thighs, spreading them further open. Seraphim, chest heaving, can only nod, head spinning, every vein thrumming with pleasure.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Seraphim still doesn’t understand why he should be afforded this honor, even as Apollo bends and their mouths join in a fierce kiss, each one better than the last. Why he is worthy of such blessed regard, Apollo’s fevered gasps and moans pressed so hotly to his ear. He’s stopped asking, because Apollo’s answers never make sense. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Because you deserve this. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Because I want to. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Because I want you. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He can’t understand it, but he no longer questions it, not when Apollo turns a blind eye to his transgressions and stays pointedly out of his tangling with the other gods, even if Seraphim occasionally rages at him in frustration for it, his instinctive anger momentarily overcoming his fear of losing this, of losing <em> him </em>. No matter: Apollo returns. He always returns. Sometimes, Seraphim thinks, he can sense that Apollo doesn’t have a good reason either, but like this, shoved up deep inside him, Seraphim doesn’t care. And Apollo, beautiful Apollo, clutching at Seraphim’s shoulders and moaning brokenly into the thick air between them, he doesn’t either.</p><p> </p><p>The gods are not exactly known for their reason overcoming their passions, anyway. </p><p> </p><p>“Apollo,” Seraphim breathes, tugging his hair harder, nipping at his jaw, his neck, wanting to bruise that flawless skin. Hungry, aching for more. “Let me—”</p><p><br/>
<em> “Yesss, </em> yes,” Apollo gasps, and Seraphim needs no further encouragement, sitting up more fully to get a firmer purchase around his god’s waist, fucking up into him at a punishing pace, baring his teeth at the riptide of pleasure that suffuses him as Apollo’s head falls back on a hoarse cry. No more exhortations to go slow, to take their time, just this, god and demon alike locked in a furious dance of wanton rapture, the differences in their physical appearance as stark as night and day, and still, and <em> still</em>, no more assured of where one ends and the other begins.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>these two won't leave me alone. here’s another first time.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Before, Seraphim knew only the serrated edge of satisfaction, the breathless exhilaration of conquest, of growing his population, of watching life fade from the eyes of Acrisius’ wretched spawn, one by one. </p><p> </p><p>Before, Seraphim bathed only in the dark, unwilling to see what consuming the giant’s flesh has wrought, though he’s learned to reap the benefits of that very inhuman strength and dominance, to lord it over those who would otherwise belittle and disregard and condemn him, every day.</p><p> </p><p>Before, life was a thing to be both endured and subdued, a rock crumbled to dust in his fist, a strategic blaze, burning away the chaff, leaving only the wheat. Winnow away the weak. Reward only the strong.</p><p> </p><p>Before, his path seemed an unending passage of darkness, a twisted labyrinth of misfortune that would only yield beneath a firm hand, shoving away every obstacle, using brute force and indomitable will to forge his own path, even if it’s one that leads straight to damnation. It was better to rage in freedom than to be content within chains, was it not? The capricious will of the fates, the petty capers of the gods — he wanted none of it. </p><p> </p><p>Sometimes, looking over at Apollo as they lie together, he wonders whether he ever truly held any convictions at all, if this cardinal one — <em> never submit </em> — could be swept away so easily.</p><p> </p><p>Apollo looks back, his eyes a muted yellow blaze. Rolls onto his side toward Seraphim, supporting himself on one elbow as he draws slow fingers through wavy white hair.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I ask you something, Seraphim?”</p><p> </p><p>Seraphim just looks back, feeling himself sink with contentment deeper into the furs as Apollo continues his slow ministrations across his scalp. “And if I say no?”</p><p> </p><p>“You know I will ask it anyway,” Apollo grins, tugging a shorter lock of hair, jostling Seraphim’s thigh with one bent knee. </p><p> </p><p>“Go on, then.”</p><p> </p><p>“After you’ve had your revenge,” he begins, his expression unchanging when Seraphim tenses, “what then?”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?” Seraphim’s voice is level, giving nothing away. Apollo’s gaze tracks his face for a long, silent moment, considering.</p><p> </p><p>“You know what I mean. Acrisius, dead. All of his sons, dead. Then what will you do?”</p><p> </p><p>Seraphim inhales, exhales, disliking the nauseating swell of rage that always accompanies any thought of his traitorous uncle, especially now, here. He can feel his face harden as he considers the question. “I...cannot see past it,” he admits, voice low.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you would say, take the throne,” Apollo returns, raising an eyebrow, drawing gentle fingers across Seraphim’s chest, their sensitive touch at odds with the bluntness of his words. “Or do you mean to help Heron take it?”</p><p> </p><p>Seraphim grips his hand tight, stilling it, shooting him a suspicious glare. “Why are you asking me this?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because I’m curious.” Apollo appears unbothered by Seraphim’s sudden anger, likely because he’s become accustomed to it. The thought both pleases and discomfits Seraphim, who prefers to keep the people around him always on edge, if not outright terrified. But Apollo is far from <em> people</em>. “Do you trust me, Seraphim?”</p><p> </p><p>Trust. Loosening his hold on the god’s hand, Seraphim turns his eyes back to the ceiling, exhaling quietly. Apollo’s fingers return to his hair, and it feels good. “I don’t know.”</p><p> </p><p>Apollo is silent, but Seraphim can hear his hurt, and it’s...strange, that he should feel compelled to soothe it. It further disturbs him that he doesn’t know how, or why he should want to in the first place. “That is...wise,” Apollo says finally, diplomatically, and when Seraphim looks over at him, Apollo is watching his own fingers play in Seraphim’s hair, his mouth set in a small pout. It’s almost petulant, and it stirs something loose in Seraphim’s chest, something that makes his lips twitch, nearly pulling into a smile. How does Apollo <em> do </em> this? </p><p> </p><p>“Is it?” Seraphim asks quietly, tipping up Apollo’s chin, suddenly wanting to see his eyes, seek out any falsehood in them. But they are open and guileless as ever when Apollo meets his gaze again, though such tricks are easy work for the immortals. “Apollo.”</p><p> </p><p>His grin is sudden and bright as the star for which he was created, shortening Seraphim’s breath. “Yes? I love when you say my name.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s impossible not to keep a straight face when Apollo looks at him like this. Another weakness. Focus. “Why do you waste your time with this mortal? Tell me.”</p><p> </p><p>Apollo’s grin dims somewhat, but his regard remains just as tender as he ghosts a finger down the scar bisecting Seraphim’s left eye. “Waste?”</p><p> </p><p>“I know what awaits me, when I die. Your mother made sure of it. Is this a game to you too?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, it’s not. And if you don’t trust me anyway,” Apollo begins lightly, shifting closer, sweeping a hand along the curve of Seraphim’s hip, “then what reason do I have to lie?” His gaze, filtered up from beneath his long, golden lashes, is nothing short of coquettish, which has the immediate effect on Seraphim that it always does. Apollo notices. “And if you’re so certain you will meet a grisly end,” he continues, his voice deepening as he encircles Seraphim’s rapidly hardening cock in his fist, “then why not enjoy <em> this, </em> now, while you’re here?” He swallows Seraphim’s shaky moan in a brief, hard kiss, breathing his next words against his lips. “With me?”</p><p> </p><p>Seraphim chases Apollo’s lips when he pulls away, heedless of the god’s tinkling laughter, needing him to quiet his thoughts, quell the storm that rages inside of him, constantly, constantly. Apollo seems to hear the plaintive note of his yearning, and doesn’t hold back, pushing Seraphim onto his back as he takes his mouth in a deep, drugging kiss, stroking his cock slowly, slowly. Swinging a leg over Seraphim’s body to straddle him properly, Apollo pulls away just far enough to nip and suck teasingly at his lips, swiping his thumb carefully across the messy tip of Seraphim’s cock.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t, don’t,” he croons as Seraphim bites his lip against a grunt, hips straining upwards to seek more pressure. “I want to hear you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?” Seraphim bites out, opening his eyes to narrow them at Apollo, who rolls his own fondly.</p><p> </p><p>“Because,” he says in a low voice, dropping a kiss onto his cheek, “I like it.” Another kiss, this time on the other cheek, which is quickly growing hot beneath his lips. “I like the way you sound.” The next kiss lingers for a moment on his forehead. “I like knowing I’m the one to make you feel good.” Seraphim reaches up to grab him, tangling his fingers in hair the color of sunshine as he pulls Apollo back down to coax his lips apart so he can capture the words flowing off his tongue, yearning to taste their sweetness firsthand.  </p><p> </p><p>Seraphim’s breaths turn ragged as the kiss deepens, Apollo’s hand drifting up his thigh, swiping his thumb across the stiffened planes of muscle, so close to where Seraphim needs it. He knows there’s no use in trying to hurry him along, moaning his frustration into Apollo’s mouth, unsurprised at the dark chuckle that follows. Aching, he wraps a leg around Apollo’s waist, tugging him in closer, and Apollo obliges, lining up their bodies so that his cock drags heavy and hot against Seraphim’s, moaning brokenly into Seraphim’s neck. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Fuck,” </em>he bites out, and Apollo rolls his hips again, nipping his jaw.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that an exclamation, or a request?” His voice is deep and clouded with lust, and Seraphim shudders as his cock twitches, leaking steadily between them. At his reticence, Apollo smiles widely, rubbing his nose against Seraphim’s. “Don’t be shy, my sweet.”</p><p> </p><p>Seraphim flushes red hot, closing his eyes as he clutches Apollo closer, needy. “Both.” He chokes out a cry when Apollo’s hand ghosts over his cock, skipping down to fondle at his balls, rolling them in his palm. It’s impossible to even think of muffling the sounds that spill from his throat now, his entire body wracked with need as Apollo lights him up with his sure touch, his lips traveling ceaselessly across his skin. By the time a finger circles Seraphim’s entrance, he’s fully surrendered to the power of Apollo’s touch, submerged within it, any shame completely drowned. “Do it,” he orders, his voice strained and breathless. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Apollo takes his lips in another bruising kiss, hot tongue hot, demanding. “Let me ease the way.” There’s a warm slickness there, and then firm pressure as Apollo’s finger slides in, slow and exploratory. </p><p> </p><p>Seraphim sucks in a short breath, muscles tightening against the strange sensation. “That’s—”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Apollo says soothingly, thumbing his chin, speaking against his mouth as he pulls out, pushes in again—slowly, slowly. “You must relax, let me in.” He moans softly when Seraphim exhales, accepting the intrusion, and a second finger joins the first, every movement still languid and measured. <em> “Good, </em>Seraphim.”</p><p> </p><p>Seraphim pants, adjusting to the rhythm, glancing down at Apollo’s long, thick length and looking back up at him, licking his lips. </p><p> </p><p>“It’ll fit,” Apollo says with a humming laugh, hair spilling into his eyes as he bites his lip, watching Seraphim begin to meet the thrust of his fingers. “Don’t worry.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not worried.” There’s a flash of fang as Seraphim’s lips part in a silent snarl, turning his head as his eyes fall shut. “More.”</p><p> </p><p>Apollo withdraws his fingers entirely, wrenching a disconcerted noise from Seraphim, who turns again to look back up at Apollo in dismay. </p><p> </p><p>“What—why—” </p><p> </p><p>“Were you asking me for something?” Apollo asks silkily, bending to suck the wet head of Seraphim’s cock into his mouth, massaging the tip with his tongue before pulling off again, relishing the desperate shout that brings forth, Seraphim twitching beneath him. He strokes his fingers across his slick hole, teasing.</p><p> </p><p>Seraphim growls, toes curling into the furs, shoving his hips upwards to chase his touch. His voice is like gravel when he speaks, thick with need. “You want me to beg?” There’s something painfully akin to betrayal in his eyes, and Apollo sighs inwardly, a rush of affection for the stubborn mortal below him sublimating his ever soaring, divine ego.</p><p> </p><p>“Think of it as a game,” he murmurs, pressing a heated kiss to Seraphim’s thigh, the sculpted dip of his pelvis. Circling his hole again, Apollo flicks a tongue over a nipple as he slowly breaches him once more. “You can tell me if you don’t want to play. Either way, I'm going to give you everything you want.”</p><p> </p><p>When he looks up, Seraphim is watching him, nostrils flared, his mouth finally falling open in a strangled moan as Apollo slowly scissors his fingers, stroking them in and out, faster now. He has a tight grasp on Apollo’s shoulder, the other slid into his hair, tangled in the gentle curls.</p><p> </p><p>“Just, more,” he says hoarsely, his eyes flicking between Apollo’s. “Please.”</p><p> </p><p>Apollo hums, satisfied, smoothly readjusting himself over Seraphim so he can better angle his hand as he introduces a third finger, fucking in and out, spreading to continue the slow stretch. His heart swells as he watches Seraphim give himself over to the pleasure once more, the slight pinch between his eyebrows, the slackened mouth and hooded eyes as he lets Apollo lift a leg, spreading him open.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you ready?” he asks, throat tight, something steady and sure solidifying inside of him as Seraphim breathes heavily and nods, his face open with trust and want. Withdrawing his fingers, Apollo wraps them around his cock and strokes a few times as he positions himself, enjoying the slow sparks of pleasure, the way Seraphim bites his lip as he watches. “You’re beautiful,” he says openly, not giving Seraphim time to argue, pressing inside in a slow, steady glide until he’s fully enveloped in an almost painfully tight heat.</p><p> </p><p>Seraphim’s head strains backward, the veins and muscles in his neck bulging, hands scrabbling at Apollo’s shoulders as his cock jerks against his belly, expelling more cloudy fluid. “<em>Oh</em>—fuck!”</p><p> </p><p>Apollo holds still, letting him adjust, feeling himself glow brighter at the sheer ecstasy suffusing his body. When some of the tension bleeds from Seraphim’s frame, Apollo slides nearly all the way out, then pushes back in, and again, and again, rolling his hips in deep, even thrusts. He’s always very much enjoyed sex, with gods and mortals alike, but there’s something about Seraphim that makes him feel a little bit feral—a deep lust and hunger that he’s usually able to temper, but the tight clutch pulling him deeper inside is a force like no other. He growls as he drapes himself fully over Seraphim, coaxing his mouth open with his tongue and plunging inside as he increases the speed of his hips, reaching quickly behind him to encourage Seraphim’s legs locking around his waist.</p><p> </p><p>Seraphim bites his lip, sucks on it. “Harder.”</p><p> </p><p>“Manners, Seraphim.” Apollo fucks in faster anyway, the smacks of their coupling loud and obscene, and then slows to too-shallow pumps, startling a small <em> whine </em> from Seraphim that nearly makes Apollo empty himself sooner than he’d like to.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Please. </em> Just, <em> Apollo—” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Yes, love, yes,” Apollo breathes unthinkingly, properly pounding into him now, relishing the rapidly building shockwaves of pleasure, and nothing else in the universe matters except for where their bodies are joined. Except for the way Seraphim’s white curtain of hair is spread beneath him, his rough grunts that are punched out with every thrust, the way he hisses when Apollo reaches down to wrap his hand around his abandoned cock.</p><p> </p><p>Seraphim stiffens, releasing a startled yell when his orgasm overtakes him, his cock pulsing out thick and white against his stomach and chest, the rest spilling over Apollo’s hand. After tasting it, Apollo rises to his knees, holding Seraphim’s thighs open, panting as he chases his own pleasure, his eyes hungrily roving Seraphim’s form.</p><p> </p><p>“Do it,” Seraphim says huskily, unable to hold back his small, blissful smile as Apollo’s cock unerringly hits a spot inside him that sends pure electricity through him with each thrust. “I want you to.”</p><p> </p><p>“Inside?”</p><p> </p><p>“Y—please.”</p><p> </p><p><em> “Seraphim,” </em>Apollo chokes out, shoving inside with jerky movements, again and again, fucking him through his climax, pumping him full of hot seed. Seraphim’s quiet moan at the sensation burrows its way deep into his chest, and then he has to just breathe, head bowed until his hair tickles Seraphim’s belly, suspended in his pleasure, feeling the rapid beating of his heart in his still-twitching cock. </p><p> </p><p>When Apollo is eventually able to withdraw and settle beside Seraphim, he’s pleasantly surprised to be enveloped in a tight embrace, returning Seraphim’s long, fervent kiss, shutting his eyes and losing himself in the taste of his lover. Something has shaken loose in Seraphim, and he suspects that the next time they see each other, it will have consolidated again—so he enjoys the moment for what it is, combing his fingers through Seraphim’s hair, the passion of their kisses tapering off as post-coital lassitude overtakes them both.</p><p> </p><p>“Will you be here when I wake?” Seraphim mumbles, blinking slowly, a small smile appearing when Apollo’s thumb presses against his lips.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Apollo answers, and means it. “Rest,” <em> my love, </em>he finishes silently. Continues stroking Seraphim’s hair as his limbs slacken in sleep, eyes falling shut. </p><p> </p><p>Eventually, he falls asleep too, his hand curled possessively over Seraphim’s chest, as though holding his heart in place.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*releases an hour long sigh*</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading! find me on twitter: @kuviraava</p></blockquote></div></div>
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